


Speechless

by jael33



Series: Speechless [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, American Sign Language, Best Friends, Child Abuse, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mute Daryl Dixon, Muteness, Sign Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jael33/pseuds/jael33
Summary: Young Daryl is physically and emotionally damaged by the violence of his father and left mute. Rick will eventually be his friend, his rock, and more...AU no zombies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OMG...it's taken me five years to finally get up the nerve to write something. This is my first fic. EVER. Pointers, advice, creative criticism is welcome, but please be gentle. I have no idea what I'm doing or where this will go.I'll probably change tags/ratings as I go. If you think I need to add a tag please let me know. I really am fucking clueless.

Daryl didn't start life unable to talk. His muteness was caused by his father, Will, drunkenly choking him when he was four, crushing his larynx and leaving him mute. By the time they got to the hospital Will had almost convinced Daryl that he really did fall down the stairs and crush his throat on the railing. Merle and their mother corroborated Will's story and Daryl knew to nod when the doctors asked if it was true. Even if the doctors didn't believe them, everyone in their small town knew not to cross Will Dixon. 

Will Dixon was a cruel and vicious biker that was merciless to his own blood kin. He was even more brutal and heartless to Daryl because Daryl wasn't his and everyone knew it. Will often told Daryl that the only reason he kept him around was so he'd have someone to fetch his beer and to beat on when he got bored. Merle spent most of his time out in the woods behind their small run-down house, leaving Daryl to fend for himself until he, too, was old enough to escape to the woods without the fear of getting lost. The woods were his haven. The only place he felt like he belonged and where he was able to breathe easy without fear.

Until Daryl began school he'd only communicated through pointing and grunts. Will often told him that he was a "retard" and there was no point in sending him to school because he'd never learn anything and everyone would hate him and laugh at him. But since the "fucking government and the local pigs" decided to make Will's business theirs, Daryl was going to school no matter what a waste of space he'd be. When Will dropped Daryl off for his first day of school, his parting words were, "If anyone asks anything about the fucking marks on you, boy, you'd better keep your fucking trap shut. Oh wait! Guess that won't be a problem!" Daryl could hear laughter coming from the car as Will drove away.

Daryl just stood frozen by the doors, terrified and unsure what to do. Finally, a woman with reddish hair and a kind smile knelt down by him and asked if he was lost. Daryl shrank away and nodded slightly. The lady took him into the school where he heard another lady say, "Oh, that's the Dixon boy." Daryl didn't understand the looks he was getting, but eventually he'd learn what looks of pity and revulsion looked like, because he'd see them often. 

Daryl hated school. The other kids tormented him endlessly. For not talking, for his dirty clothes, for smelling bad, for having greasy hair, and mostly for his last name. Everyone in the little town knew that the Dixon name was synonymous with being the worst of the worst. Coming from the wrong side of the tracks. Being pure white trash that was to be avoided at all costs. 

The only thing Daryl liked was learning to read and write and learning sign language. He picked it up quickly, and by grade two he was fluent in ASL and ahead of most of the other kids in his mainstream class in reading ability. He spent most of his time in a small special education class, but he was mainstreamed in with other kids for a couple of hours a day. He loathed those times, especially recess, when he'd be with his tormentors where he was outnumbered, unable to cry for help. They'd corner him behind a copse of trees in the far corner of the playground. If he was lucky they'd just verbally berate him, but often they'd beat, spit, and kick him, making sure not to leave marks on his face. 

He received the first praise he'd ever gotten in his short, hard, lonely life. His teacher told him that he was smart and very clever. For the first time he'd felt pride. Unfortunately, it was short-lived. He soon realized that the only people he could sign with was his teacher and two deaf kids that wanted nothing to do with him. When he'd asked to teach Merle some signs, Merle cackled, flipped him off, and said, "This is the only sign I need to know, baby brother!"  
When Daryl cautiously approached his father, signing "dad" and handing Will a note that read "this means dad," Will had wadded it up and tossed it in Daryl's face, bouncing it off his nose. He said, "I don't need to know any of that pansy-ass bullshit! Go get me a fucking beer!" Daryl held back his tears as he handed Will his beer before escaping outside to the woods. Once there, he broke down and sobbed.


	2. Emerging from the ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things burn and Daryl's life is looking up for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that people are actually reading this! My heart is happy! I welcome constructive criticism, as this is my first fic. I'm thick skinned and open to any suggestions you have to help me write better!  
> Also, I'm writing this totally off the cuff. There's no plot layout or plan, no specific publishing times, nor is there any idea of how long it will be. But by all means, feel free to flounder along with me! Now I see why so many writers say kudos and comments are their life. I'm just blown away that anyone is reading this!

When Daryl was ten Merle joined the Marines, taking with him the only buffer Daryl had against Will Dixon. Their mother had bailed not long after the injury that had taken Daryl's voice. She'd run off with a construction worker and they hadn't heard from her since. Daryl told himself that it didn't matter, she was a shitty mother anyway. He couldn't remember ever receiving a hug, kiss, or any type of loving gentle touch from either of his parents. When he saw parents hugging their children as they were dropped off at school it was as foreign to him as another language. He couldn't comprehend that anyone could have a life that didn't consist of violence and fear. He'd stand staring wistfully and confused, wondering if they kept the beatings behind closed doors and if they were just that good at acting.

He knew he was different and that his life was fucked up. The other kids didn't startle with fear when someone brushed up against them. They didn't respond to minor arguments with bared teeth and fists. He never saw the hint of bruises or lashings peeking out from a collar or cuff. Daryl had been taken out of the special education class by third grade. He was told that he was smart, possibly even smarter than everyone else in his class. He didn't believe it, but he went along with what his teachers wanted because he desperately wanted to make them proud of him. He wasn't being bullied as bad as he'd been when he first started school because Merle had taught him to fight back and to fight dirty. He'd broken a boy's nose and almost put his eye out. Will had been called in and afterwards Daryl had gotten a beating so bad that he wanted to die. If he'd been able to talk he would have begged his brother to kill him and put him out of his misery. He had a vague memory of Merle pleading with their father to take Daryl to the hospital because it wasn't normal for someone to be coughing up that much blood. Will had refused, and Merle had stayed by Daryl's side for days until he was able to breathe somewhat normally and wasn't vomiting and pissing blood. It was the only time he'd seen Merle cry. He held Daryl against his chest, dripping tears and snot on his head, begging him not to die. Daryl remembers him whispering over and over, "I'm sorry, little brother. I'm so sorry. I'm going to kill that mother fucker someday, I promise you that." Daryl missed three weeks of school after that beating. Will told the school that he had chicken pox. 

Daryl spent a lot of the next three years in the woods. Merle had taught him to hunt and track and had given him a (probably stolen) crossbow before he left for basic training. Daryl became very proficient in putting meat on the table. He'd built a lean-to into the side of a hill. It was mostly hidden and it was Daryl's sanctuary. He'd bring books to read during the day and at night he'd lay by his small campfire, looking up at the stars. He knew if he wanted to read he couldn't do it at home. The few times Will had caught him reading he'd called him a faggot and tore the books up. If he could have gotten away with it he would have lived in his lean-to for the rest of his life, never going back to the hell on earth that was Will Dixon's house. 

When Daryl was 13 Will went to prison for attempted murder and kidnapping. Daryl considered it the best day of his life. Merle had come home on emergency family leave to take custody of Daryl. To celebrate Daryl gathered up everything in the house that belonged to or reminded him of Will. Clothing, his coffee mug, his porno mags, and his treasured biker vest among other things. He even drug Will's favorite recliner outside and chopped it up with an axe. He then stuffed their burn barrel full, doused it in kerosene, and flicked his half-smoked cigarette onto the pile. It went up with a satisfying whoosh. 

Merle came out the back door to stand next to his little brother. He didn't say a word as he put his big hand on Daryl's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Daryl looked up with a small smile. They stood there, sharing a smoke, until everything in the barrel was burnt to ash.


	3. A Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Rick finally meet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've done dialog. I don't have a beta, so any pointers/suggestions would be great. Does the conversation sound believable? Does it flow okay? Please, comments would be awesome! Thanks for reading!

The week before Daryl started high school Merle took him to Goodwill to get some school clothes. Merle was trying his best to do right by Daryl. He'd been honourbly discharged from the Marines and landed a job as a mechanic at a motorcycle shop. He was even learning some sign language. Of course, as it was Merle, the first signs he learned were curse words. His favorite "sign" was still his middle finger. Merle was far from perfect. More nights than not Merle had people over to party. There was alcohol, drugs, and fist fights. Daryl had the occasional beer, but stayed away from the harder stuff. He spent most of his time in his room. Daryl often came home to hear Merle screwing the bar-slut-of-the-night in his room. Once, he'd walked in the back door, catching Merle fucking a woman on the kitchen table. Daryl had thrown an empty beer can at Merle's head and Merle laughed and pulled the woman into his room, slamming the door. Daryl seriously considered gouging his own eyes out with a spoon after seeing his brother's pasty ass.

Daryl was looking through a rack of t-shirts and glanced up, noticing a boy his age looking at him from across the rack. He had the most beautiful blue eyes Daryl had ever seen. Blushing, Daryl glared at him before moving further down the rack. He'd just pulled out a black Skinny Puppy shirt as he heard someone say, "That would look good on you." Daryl jumped and turned, seeing the boy was now standing near his left side. The boy looked down, scuffing his boots on the floor. "I'm Rick," he said, looking back up at Daryl. Daryl sighed, pulling a small notebook and pencil from his pocket. 

**DARYL. WHAT DO YOU WANT?** He wrote, then handed the notebook to Rick. 

Rick read it and asked, "Are you deaf?"

Daryl shook his head, taking the notebook back from Rick. **CAN'T TALK.** He turned it to Rick, who read it and then looked back up at Daryl.

Rick smiled, and then signed, _"Do you know ASL?"_ Daryl dropped the notebook in shock. He signed back, slowly, _"You sign?"_

Rick nodded, signing back, _"My mom is deaf."_ His smile disappeared. "Was. She was deaf," he said. He looked away from Daryl with a sad sigh, and said. "She died last year. I just moved here from Atlanta with my dad."

 _"Sorry."_ Daryl signed. 

Rick gave him a small smile, before asking, "Where do you go to school?" 

_"Sentinel."_ Rick signed the back and forth motion of _me too_ and grinned at Daryl. "At least now I'll have a friend when I start," he said.

Daryl shrugged, and looked back at the shirts. _"Not friends."_ he signed. 

Rick's grin faltered. "Well, we could be...I don't know anyone here."

Daryl turned back to Rick with a glare. _"Being friends with a Dixon will guarantee that you won't have any other friends. Trust me. You don't want to let anyone know that you know me, let alone are friends with me."_ he signed angrily. He grabbed the Skinny Puppy shirt and stormed off to find Merle, leaving Rick with his mouth hanging open and a shocked look on his face.

"Find anything, little brother?" Merle asked as Daryl stomped over to him. "Yeah," Daryl thought to himself. "A gorgeous guy with beautiful blue eyes that won't give me the fucking time of day after school starts!" He shoved the shirt into Merle's chest and stalked out to their truck. He got in, slamming the door and lighting a cigarette. He blew out the smoke slowly, wondering where the fuck these feelings were coming from. He'd never been attracted to anyone at school. Merle had given him a porn mag for his fourteenth birthday. It had explicitly shown men and women having sex. The women hadn't stirred anything in him, but the men with their hard cocks...he tried to convince himself he was just jealous of their scar-free bodies and their huge dicks. But deep down he knew there was more to it. "Fuck," he thought, leaning his head back on the seat. "I'm a fucking faggot."

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The first day of high school started like every other day of school for Daryl. He kept his head down and tried to avoid having any contact with his fellow students. Very few people spoke to him and he was perfectly happy with that. He'd thought of Rick constantly since that day at Goodwill. He replayed it over and over in his mind, coming up with things he wished he'd said instead of being so rude to the one person who'd expressed an interest in being his friend. He was slouched in a chair in his second period algebra class as Rick came rushing in the door. The teacher paused taking roll. "You're late," she said to Rick. "What's your name?"

"Sorry," Rick said, grabbing a seat next to Daryl. "Rick Grimes." The teacher nodded and went back to taking roll. Rick turned to Daryl with a smile. "Hi," he said. Daryl glanced at him and gave a slight nod, before looking back down at the class syllabus on his desk. He felt a tap on his arm and looked back up at Rick. _"You're still the only person I know here,"_ Rick signed.

 _"Keep talking to me and it'll stay that way,"_ Daryl answered.

Rick laughed, causing the kids around them to turn around. The teacher cleared her throat and everyone turned back to look at her. _"I don't care,"_ Rick signed. _"I like you, Daryl Dixon,",_ he grinned.

_"You don't even know me, dumb fuck."_ Daryl grinned back, as Rick laughed again. Daryl felt a small flutter in his stomach as he heard Rick laugh. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. 

"Gentlemen!" The teacher snapped. "I know algebra is immensely entertaining, but keep it down back there if you don't want detention." Rick and Daryl looked at each other, trying not to giggle. 

When class ended, Rick dropped a folded piece of paper on his desk as he was walking towards the door. Daryl opened the note. "I live at 747 Riverside. Come by if you want and we can hang out," it said. He felt that flutter in his stomach again. Then he realized that Rick's address was only about a half mile from his house. Daryl's house was at the top of a hill bordering the forest. Calling it a house was being generous. It was more like a shack. Four rooms consisting of a kitchen, a tiny bathroom, and two small bedrooms. It was heated with a wood stove. The screen door hung off the hinges and there were car and motorcycle parts strewn around the dirt yard. The gravel and dirt driveway was a quarter mile long and Rick's house was just down the road from there. Daryl remembered seeing the "For Rent" sign a few months back. He couldn't believe that Rick was his neighbor. He smiled to himself, tucking the note into his jean's pocket. 


	4. Blame the Ham Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl works up the nerve to visit Rick. It doesn't go very well. At all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short. I'm getting ready to go out with some work friends for some pool and beers, but this was bouncing around my noggin and I just wanted to get it out there. Someone give our poor boys a hug. Jesus...

Daryl almost changed his mind three times before knocking on Rick's door. Rick opened the door with a surprised look, holding a butter knife, and said, "You came!"

 _"Yeah, dumb fuck. You invited me, remember?"_ Daryl signed, with a grin.

"Is that just going to be your go-to name for me then? Dumb fuck?" Rick asked.

Daryl laughed. _"Damn straight, dumb fuck. Now you going to invite me in, or keep threatening me with that knife?"_

Rick looked down at his hand and blushed. "I was just making a sandwich. Come on in." Daryl followed him into the kitchen and Rick waved him over to a chair at a small kitchen table next to the wall. Daryl sat as Rick went over to the counter where the makings of a sandwich were waiting. "You want one?" He asked Daryl. Daryl nodded. 

Rick made their sandwiches, grabbed a couple bottles of Coke from the fridge, and then brought them over to the table. He sat down across from Daryl and said, "I hope ham is okay. It's all we have until my dad can get to the store."

 _"It's fine."_ Daryl signed with one hand while inhaling the sandwich with the other. He finished it before Rick had taken two bites of his own sandwich. 

"Damn!" Rick exclaimed. "When's the last time you ate?"

Daryl turned red and signed, _"Haven't had time to hunt. Not much food in the house."_

Rick set his sandwich down and looked at Daryl. "You have to hunt for your food?" 

Daryl glared at him and signed angrily, _"Yeah, you got a problem with that?"_ He jutted his chin out, eyes narrowed. Rick held his hands up, palms towards Daryl. "No man. I think it's cool, actually." 

_"It's not fucking cool, Rick. It's not a fucking hobby or a game. If I don't kill something we don't eat."_ Daryl took a deep breath, looking down at the floor for several moments. He then looked back up at Rick. _"We can't be friends, man. You'll never make any more friends when people start seeing you with me. Our lives are too different and you belong with people who aren't as fucking damaged as me. Friends who aren't fucked up. Who don't live with their brother because their fucking dad is in prison. Who don't have food unless they fucking kill it themselves or dig through a dumpster hoping to find something worth eating that has been thrown out. We're not the same Rick. You're a nice and decent guy. Find yourself some nice and decent friends and not a fucking reject like me."_ Daryl stood up and quickly headed to the door. "Daryl! Wait!" He heard Rick yell. He'd just grabbed the knob when he felt Rick catch hold of his elbow. Daryl spun around, glaring daggers at Rick. 

_"What do you want from me, Rick?"_

"I...I...shit, Daryl. I like ya. I don't care about that other shit. I don't want anything from you, except to be your friend. I don't give a fuck what people think. I just like ya," he repeated. "There's nothing you could tell me that would make me change my mind." 

_"Really,"_ Daryl signed with a sneer and a sarcastic eyebrow raised. Rick crossed his arms and nodded. Daryl signed angrily, _"You're fucking wrong, Rick Grimes. There's something about me that will make you fucking despise me!"_ He grabbed Rick and spun him around, slamming his back against the wall by the door. Rick let out a surprised "Ooomph!" Daryl held him against the wall with one palm against his chest. _"Want to know what it is?"_ He signed with his free hand. Rick just looked at him with a confusion and hurt in his eyes. 

"Daryl..." He said, and took a step forward. "I don't ca..." Daryl slammed him back into the wall. _"I'm a fucking queer,"_ he signed and then ran out the door.


	5. It Really Ain't So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick chases Daryl and has his own confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that I'm fluent in ASL. I'm writing in English what Daryl is signing, because it might be confusing for people who aren't familiar with ASL. If you sign and/or Deaf then you know what I mean and I hope you can just imagine it being signed in true ASL.  
> I'm sorry this chapter isn't very long. I just didn't know where else to take it, and I feel like it ended in a good place because I'm honestly kind of squicky about writing 14-year-old boys gettin' after it. would anyone be interested in a sequel where they're older? Older teens? Adults? Or I'm open to any other ideas.  
> And, thank you all for reading my first ever fic. The response has been incredible and so positive (I haven't posted this train wreck of a chapter yet, though, so that could change lol) and I so appreciate all the kudos and comments!

Daryl could hear Rick chasing him as he raced up his driveway, nearly blinded blinded by tears. "What the FUCK did I just do," he thought. "I managed to lose my first and only friend and out myself at the same time." Rick caught up to him as he was slamming his front door. Rick jammed his foot between the door and frame. He let out a huff as Daryl slammed the door against his boot.

"Daryl, just stop! Talk to me! Please!" 

Daryl tried to shove Rick so he could shut the door, but with surprising strength, Rick shoved him back causing him to stumble backwards into the living room. Rick stepped inside. The two boys just stood there, panting, and stared at each other. "I'm sorry I offended you," Rick said softly. "This wasn't how I wanted today to go."  
h  
_"Me neither,"_ Daryl signed.

"Can we just start over then? How 'bout we sit out on the porch and talk?" Rick asked. Daryl was chewing on his thumb nervously, looking between Rick and the back door like he was going to bolt any second. Finally, he removed his hand from his mouth and signed, _"Better idea. Follow me."_ He went out the back door with Rick following close behind. 

Daryl led Rick into the woods to a well-worn path. They followed it for about thirty minutes, neither saying anything. They were following a stream around the base of a cliff when Daryl stopped, pointing up. About twenty feet up the side of the cliff Rick could see a small structure. Daryl started climbing up and motioned for Rick to follow. When they reached the structure Rick could see that it was a well-made wooden lean-to. "Is this yours?" He asked Daryl, incredulously. Daryl nodded.

_"I built it a few years ago. It's where I'd go when things got really bad at home with my old man. Never told anyone about it before."_

Rick smiled. "I love it!" He began looking around inside the lean-to. He couldn't quite stand upright, so he crawled inside on his knees. Daryl, seeing Rick on his knees, blushed and looked away. Rick glanced up and saw that the roof was covered in tarps underneath the branches that you could only see from the outside. There was a sleeping bag against the back wall and severeal well-worn books in ziplock bags next to it. There were a couple of lanterns, matches in a small round metal container, a can of Beenie Weenies and two cans of Spaghetti-Os as well as a can opener sitting on top of the cans of food. "This place is amazing," he said in awe. Daryl crawled in and sat next to Rick. He turned slightly so that Rick could see his hands.

 _"I've never had a friend,"_ he signed. _"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry for how I acted, though. You didn't deserve to be treated like that."_ He was looking down at his lap as he signed. _"What I told you...what I said...shit. I never meant to say that. I don't suppose you'd be willing to forget it, would you?"_ Daryl started chewing on the corner of his thumb again, still not making eye-contact with Rick. He jumped when he felt Rick's fingers on his chin, pulling up so Daryl would be forced to look at him.

"Daryl," Rick said softly. "Why would I want to forget it?"

Daryl scoffed. _"Because nobody wants to be friends with a faggot!"_ He signed angrily, trying to pull away. Rick grabbed Daryl's biceps, ducked his head, and looked up at Daryl, who was staring at his lap. 

"I really wish you'd stop calling yourself a faggot and queer. There's nothing wrong with being gay, Daryl. I'm glad you told me, actually."

Daryl finally looked into Rick's eyes. He didn't see the pity or revulsion that he was so used to seeing when other people looked at him. All he saw in Rick's beautiful blue eyes was a gentle kindness and honesty. _"Why would you be glad to find out that you have a gay friend?"_ Daryl asked, genuinely confused.

Rick chuckled. "Because, dumb fuck," he said. Then he leaned over slowly and gave Daryl a gentle kiss on the lips.


End file.
